


oh darling, i know what you're going through.

by ppperoxideprincess



Category: America's Suitehearts - Fall Out Boy (Music Video), Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Music - Fandom, Pete Wentz - Fandom, Peterick - Fandom, bands - Fandom, fob - Fandom, youngbloods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ppperoxideprincess/pseuds/ppperoxideprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>who are you, really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh darling, i know what you're going through.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this literally five years ago it is awful i'm sorry i just found it and tried to make it a little better but. who knows what i was thinking

Silence.

Uninterrupted.

Untouched.

Unremembered.

Silence. Until.

The rain beat town. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Hard droplets paling in comparison to the cracked glass, or pieces of a past. Crumpled and torn papers shredded against the floor. Rain. Searing the metal roof like bullets Above me, it rattled my thoughts. I looked from wall to wall. White. Dark. 

White was supposed to be a hopeful color. Full of reflection. Light. Possibility.

Rain was different from sunshine. Rain cut. Cold, and hard. Biting. Painful.

This white was cold. Brutal. It never changed. It never varied. I never left. The writings on the wall ceased to exist to the eyes of another. The mind of another. I had put them there. They stayed only for me. They would stay as long as I stayed. They would always stay.

The sun was always different. Sunshine tickled. Gently. It frolicked across the skin. Gently. Coaxing smiles from scars, headlights out of shadows.

Sometimes I cannot help but to ask myself, why am I here? Why, for what reason, by what broken, corrupted circumstance, am I living like this? I had never chosen this for myself. I had never seen it coming.

The rain was dropping harder now. Stronger. Louder. I couldn't keep it out. The pounding, the pattering. It's sharp, unforgiving noises flooded my ears.

Again. Unending. I could feel it coming. I could feel him coming.

"Peter." It whispered. The voice. The one in my head, or my bed, or every other word I've said. Delicate words curled through the black, sharp night. I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid to open them. He would be there. Right there. In front of me. Always there.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all. Open your eyes.. look at me, darling.." soothed the voice. Soft, stubborn. Kind, scolding.

My eyes snapped open wide. I could see him, despite the darkness. His beaming, bright eyes. Like lasers. Twisted rays of sunlight, meant to burn. To harm. I could see him, in front of me. I tried to get away. I wanted to run, to move. Yet every movement I made, it only pushed me down. Or he pushed me down. Down. Spiraling. Endlessly. Falling from something real into something fake, or maybe just the other way around. He was not real. And so I stumbled. Blindly, tumbling through my mind. I searched for find comfort. A constant to cling to. He's not real. He is just a hallucination.

Go back to sleep. Pete, go back to sleep. My thoughts, they twisted. Blended with his. Roughly. Painfully. And again, I could think no more. Again, myself, I, I could no longer control the sensations in my own mind. I could not keep them clearly separate his. He was a part of me. He was a lie. He was controlling me. He did not exist.

Was he real? Was I? Had I ever been? Had he?

On some days, I knew my problems. I had felt him there, as long as I had lived. I was aware. I knew that I was not alone in my brain. I could feel it, feel him. Pulling me. Telling me. Be someone I'm not. Be someone I am. Split. Combine. Be. Never was I me, I was him. I signed his name on papers in school the days he told me to. He controlled me. He threatened me. Sandman. I lived for him because he told me to, never because I wanted to. I wanted freedom, but every breath I took I breathed for him. The Sandman. It. He. We? He. Consumed me. At first he was gentle, comparative to a chiding parent. But as I grew, he grew, and with each passing day he was stronger. Stronger. To the point  that _I_ could no longer function. Pushing me to the point where _I_ did not exist. Would not, turned to could not. No longer was I able to designate the real thoughts from the forced ones. No longer could I grasp the concept of real. No longer did I know what real meant. _I_ did not know  _I_ existed. I did not exist. He had always been there. He had always wanted control, and he was taking it.

The muddled sounds in my brain pounded harder. Throbbing. The rain poured so loudly I couldn't think. I could never think. I tried to fight it but my self control was slipping away. He was pulling. Pulling. I could only scream. Help me. Someone. Help me.

According to them, that is why I am here. "To get help", they would say. I didn't need help. As if it would help me, more voices in my head. More, controlling me. More being pushed in so many directions I could no longer navigate myself.

I didn't need that. I already had that kind of confusion. Thanks to him.

The one person I needed, was myself. The one person I had never had. Had never owned.

Me. Someone I would never find.

And so I slipped darker and darker. Falling. Tripping. Tumbling into oblivion. His bright skeleton frame beamed dazzling white light. Scorching my eyes. As I slipped, darker, into unconsciousness, I heard him. It was a new message this time. Not the usual gruff commands. "You have to let go of me. Peter. You have to let go." Screaming. I was screaming. Drowning out the sound of the rain. "I'll let go of you if you just... let go. Peter." My eyes squeezed shut, screams still dripping from my mouth, I felt a black clad hand grip me. "Let go..." he whispered.

I am lost. I know nothing about myself, about the world around me. And so I trust him.

I feel the hand loosening. It lets go. Slowly, my own voice softens. I hear him no more. My eyes slip shut and I feel darkness envelop me as my consciousness drains.

Eventually, I wake up. The rain still pours. Pattering down, it taps out a beat. A calmer rhythm for my unending thoughts.

Outside of my room, I hear hushed voices. Whispering. "Wentz, again?" "Shut him up. He's woken up the whole damn wing". I glance towards the barred window for a trace of him. Slowly, I recall the night's earlier events. I expect to see his silhouette in the moonlight, as he never leaves. He is always there. Perched just outside. Just out of reach, just close enough to tell me who I am. His.

Except this time, he's not.

I can hear the lock being opened on my door. People wearing that same hopeless dull white, carrying hopeless dull needles. Before I lose consciousness again, I reach my hand out. Slowly. I draw my fingers against the floor in front of my face. I look at them. Sand. There is black sand on my floor.


End file.
